Night time. The snowy streets of the Sakura Kingdom welcome the strangers and locals alike into the many warm building the settlement hosts; giving comforting room and space to those who choose to occupy them. Meanwhile, bright lamps shine Asher’s way to the nearest inn he could find.

“Dear god,” he thinks to himself, “I couldn’t believe it’d be so cold here”. In his entire life, he has never been to such a cold place. Especially during this season, the island reaches truly chilling temperatures. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to claim that the temperatures tonight would drop to an alarming -20 degrees celsius. Hence, despite the impressive number of layers he wore, his body trembled almost non-stop.

“It’s certainly not a joke”, he thinks to himself, his gloved hands shoved deep inside his fur pockets while his head is bent against the snowstorm on his way to the first pub his weary body would observe.

“Here”, Asher happily notes to himself, as his golden eyes land on the “Pink Snow Inn” sign which is practically dancing under the luminous street-lamp’s light.

“Fucking A” he decides with a victorious smile as he lightly omits towards the thick wooden door of the tavern.

Not a single doubt crosses his mind as the young man rudely bursts into the pub and easily captures the occupants’ attention. The man is completely aloof to the residents who are already scanning his figure, from head to toe.

Incidents such as this has never piqued the young man’s interest. Not in the past, and surely not today, in the heart of this mysterious pub. He couldn’t mind the residents less than he already does. His heart-rate remained steady while his breathing grew calmer and deeper, indifferent to its surroundings and his hazel-colored eyes pierced into those of the bartender.

He was a young man, surprisingly. He was not older than 20 winters, at least, in Asher’s opinion. The latter caught the young man’s immediate attention; there was something about his bold, unforgiving spirit that was shrouded in mystery.

“Greetings,” Asher exclaimed in bold innocence, “Hand over, if I may, a fat mug of ale”, he nearly demanded, doing so bizarrely politely. Asher’s body language opened as he marched deeper into the pub, as a result from the heat that coated his body and his brave tolerance that has shedded the hesitation he embraced from the snowstorm raging outside.

“Y-yeah, with pleasure” the young bartender replied quickly, trying to sound as equally nonchalant as his age-mate, Asher, but he was undoubtedly surprised from the young swordsman’s presence.

The young bartender has quickly opened a bottle of ale, pouring its content right into a relatively large mug from an elevated position. He tilted the mug lightly as the vessel was almost completely full, preventing the foam from occupying a hearty portion of the mug.

Meanwhile, Asher took his liberty to sit down on a stool. He let a pleased sigh as he landed on the padding. Removing his coat, he started eyeing the place. He neglected to do so when he entered - as he was explicitly focused on arriving at the stand as quickly as possible. So now, when his eyes scanned the area - he discovered a relatively large place. The wooden walls were decorated with shields, swords and elk helms. The ceiling appeared to be non-existent, but a drag of his head revealed an incredibly tall rooftop, one that continued towering for at least 5 floors, to Asher’s count.

“You know,” the young bartender said, catching Asher’s attention again as he continued removing his gloves, “We are a family of hunters. Hence the decoration, n’ stuff” he exclaimed. “A-and what about you, y’know? Where are you from?” he asked, trying to regain his confidence against the foreigner.

“Me? I’m from the East Blue, lad” he replied calmly as the mug was handed over to him. “But you know”, he added, raising the mug again, “I definitely love this place so far. I’ve never visited such a cold place” he concluded, taking a long draft of the drink. The bartender's eyes were dazzling with surprise; he has never met an individual from the East Blue. It was so far away from this Kingdom, after all!

He hoped to regain his cool, the very same one he believed Asher bathed in and kept quiet; a mere unnoticed smirk was his response.

“Ahh!” he sighed joyously, “That’s some good fookin’ ale!” he happily added; a cheerful grin quickly stretching on his lips. The young bartender nodded with a proud smirk of his own, his arms folded - as if to show his victory.

“Y-yeah” a hesitant call of triumph escaped the bartender's mouth, “I make some good ale”. Asher nodded at him, still grinning, but soon turned his gaze to the occupants of the room; whom he hasn’t gotten the chance to study, yet. The bartender, however, was certain he still has Asher’s attention, as he embarked on his story. “B-but unfortunately, bartending is not my strongest side… I-I make good ale, but bartending isn’t my strongest side… Dad says I’ll get better. But, you know…” he stopped, his gaze lowering to half-empty bottle of ale, “I wish I was like you, you know…” he continued, completely ignorant of the fact Asher’s not even remotely close to listening to him. The hazel-eyed’s focus is now a subject of a group of tough-looking, bearded folks, who paid him a rather intimidating look; earning themselves a cold, calm gaze from Asher’s side.

“H-hey!” the bartender suddenly says, slightly offended by Asher’s indifferent approach to his story. He notices the group of people eyeing Asher; and suddenly taps his elbow lightly, his body somewhat hoping to escape their line of sight with this sudden action. “I-if I were you, I’d avoid looking at them for too long, Kenshi” he exclaimed, catching Asher’s regard once again.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” he laughed heartily, slamming his fist against the wooden deck. Now, he definitely listened to the bartender’s words. The poor bartender, however, had no idea how to react; so he nervously grabbed Asher’s forearm, trying to stop him.

The stupid brat, however, kept going for a little longer than he should have.

“Who, those people? Why, are they the local tough guys or something???” he barked with no care for them and grabbed his mug once again, drinking its remains in one draft. “I’m from the East Blue, man. I don’t give a shit about those people. They were looking at me, so I was looking back, ya know. If they wanna start something, let them be my guests” he coldly, yet somewhat innocently, he uttered. He challenged them with him with his total lack of care. He had no fear; not of them and not from anyone else on this island, or in this world, really. Such was the kid; thoroughly, wholeheartedly, ignorant.

“K-kenshi, you don’t understand! They a-” the bartender hoped to reply, but was brutally blocked by the golden-eyed foreigner. “I don’t care who they are. Pour me another drink, will ya’” he nonchalantly replied, leaning forward, closer to the bartender. The bartender’s eyes shone with a glister of fear and a spark of anger; on the one hand, he didn’t listen to his words at all! Asher was completely self-absorbed, which was rather rude, especially for a foreigner. But on the other hand; it was completely terrifying. The mere thought that those guys would walk up to them; it was freezing.

He sighed and nodded nervously, claiming Asher’s mug once again. He quickly refilled it, pouring the fine-liquid into the mug; he managed to fill it entirely, causing the mug to overflow with foam, thus emptying the bottle completely.

“Let me tell you, kid” Asher insolently proclaimed, “This ale is strong. I’m getting a tiny bit light headed already”.

He was right; this ale alcoholic percentage was 13, thus, making it a rather heavy drink. It was blonde, yet tasted like oranges, and Asher could even point his finger on a hint of strawberries.

As the mug was quickly handed to him in a rather nervous manner, his eyes traveled to the brown pools of the bartender. Asher realized he was rather uncomfortable with this situation, it seemed he really was scared of those people.

“Kid, don’t worry. I just came here to drink quickly,” he said, picking up the mug once again, preparing to down it in one hearty chug. “I’m sleepy anyways, I’ll be outta here in a flash” he reassured, a confidence, piercing gaze in his eyes and picked up the mug once again, emptying its contents after an impressively long chug. The young bartender eyed him, a bit more relaxed, and nodded at him. There was something about Asher that radiated confidence. Not from a cocky place, but rather, from an absolutely reassured one. It wasn’t something he could put into words, however, that’s how he felt.

“A-alright, sir. Be careful, though” he said as Asher rose from his seat, covering himself with the warming layers once again, not before he dropped an exaggerated number of coins on the desk. He didn’t bother to look back; as soon as he was done with his preparation, he left. “Aye, aye mate, don’t worry. Have a good night, go buy yourself something nice” he teased, striding towards the exit once again. The bartender sighed with a small smirk on his lips and nodded at him one last time before returning to his business.

Asher, at this point; was fairly light-headed already. He chugged a lot of strong ale quickly. He wasn’t completely wasted, but he was rather drunk. Hence, he didn’t notice he stumbled on a certain chair, and pushed a certain someone to the right. His victim was one of the tough guys he had an intense glaring contest with, earlier. Asher didn’t even notice that the lad stood up with the rest of his friends and followed the dizzy individual to the exit of the inn, walking all the way to the snowy street outside.

“Oi!” an average-sized man called, accompanied by three other individuals. He was infuriated. He wore a black outfit, barring the fur coat which was brown and had a certain tag on it’s left side, right where the heart is, something that Asher couldn’t notice from afar. The three other people were clothed in the exact same manner, except that their fur coats were black and their tags were red in color, and not bronze like the angry man’s.

“Yeah?” he drunkenly barked back, even more disrespectful than him, turning to face them from 2 meters away or so; a hand instinctively reaching for his sword. Luckily for him, he didn’t forget to tie brown stripes around the hilt, thus covering its rubies. To everyone looking, this sword seemed rather normal. Or so he cared to believe.

The bearded individual gritted his teeth and stepped forward. “Listen, you shit, are you looking for trouble?” he asked, backed by the three other men, who were all a bit taller than him; their hands were deep inside their pockets.

Asher carefully stepped into an alley, hoping to back away from the already-empty street. And they followed.

“Yeah, I am, old man. Come punish me, daddy” he snarled back; a cocky smirk forming on his lips.

The middle-aged, silver-bearded individual quickly scanned his fur-coat, practically running after Asher now. The three tall men didn’t even need a word; they knew that this kid swordsman, whoever he might be, has done something wrong, which was angering this particular man. They, too, sprinted towards Asher, their hands quickly escaping their warm pockets with a sharp object; a long, tempered knife.

Asher, however, was prepared; a large grin formed on his lips as he bolted forward in an instant; closing the 3 meters of range quicker than they could anticipate. His first target, who was also leading the arrowhead-shaped assault, was the middle-aged, bearded fellow. He pulled out a gun; just when Asher’s devilish smile was observed by his lost, disorganized gaze. A quick Iai was performed, causing a hand to be quickly severed by a golden-colored sword; cutting through the night as quickly as the sound of the metal brushing against the sheath rang in the men’s ears.

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!” the man yelled in pain, dropping to his knees as he grabbed his bleeding forearm. Asher’s demonic smirk didn’t extinguish, but instead, it grew wider as his ears were fed with the man’s cries. He bolted forward once again; catching the men by total surprise. He was a bit faster than your average Joe, and he had an edge over them; the element of surprise, and the element of cutting one of their important men's hand off. Which, let's face it, was rather important.

Three tried to circle him from all sides; however, he maintained his distance and remained light on his toes, enlarging the distance between them. With the reach advantage he had thanks to his sword, he cut the first man's hand off. The other two tried to sprint and avenge their friend with an infuriated yell, as their friend dropped to the floor crying in pain, grabbing ahold of his forearm in order to cope with the pain and bleeding. The first one of the remaining two was met with a series of fast thrusts to his eye-area, and eventually, a thrust landed; poking his eye while cutting his nose and forehead, causing him too, to fall to the ground; shocked and in pain. The last one attempted to stab Asher's arm and close the distance as the latter took care of his friend's eye; however, Asher managed to get out of his way before he managed to land a deep stab; but Asher managed to enlarge the distance due to the advantage he already have over him, and in a slash descending from his elevated grip of the sword, he cut the man's hand off.

---

Word Count: 2,608.

Miraculously; Asher only observed the huge figure when the men he had dealt with sat on the floor, rather shocked; or even, I'll go as far as to say, quite traumatized by the situation they got themselves into. After all, it wasn't every day that your average Joe would suddenly be missing (a part of) a limb. Nearly each and every person who experiences the loss of a limb is somehow taken by either shock or trauma, but most are taken by a little bit of both. The more interesting aspect that is rarely discussed, however; is what the attacker feels when cutting someone with a sword. Even after years of physical and mental training, there would always be a sense of disgust and guilt as a sword hacks through another person's flesh. When the threat is immediate, however - it's not something Asher feels right as his sword cuts someone, as the adrenaline and sense of danger somewhat dull any sense of compassion. Which brings us to the realization that hits him moments after the threat has ceased to be one. A mere, simple scan Asher has cared to spare of the men's arms caused a small twitch in his heart. Seeing someone's arm severed and the bleeding, severed forearm is enough to send an undesired shiver down any sane man's spine. Asher found a few ways to deal with that, over the years. First one and the most effective one - is experience. The more you do something, the cloudier it becomes. Second of which - would be his philosophy. Asher believes that when his life is threatened, sometimes, it is mandatory to oppose a threat to his enemy's life to secure his own survival. Which is something he practiced at these very moments. This situation wasn't the easiest thing in the world; but it wasn't as difficult as many other moral men would claim. Perhaps it had something to do with his overly-selfish nature, or rather, it's his life circumstances? Asher always preferred to believe that it's a little bit of both.

However, back to the matter at hand; there was a literal giant standing over them, practically scolding the men whose arms were brutally severed. Somehow, his consciousness completely neglected to mentally greet the massive shadow that towered over them a few spacious seconds before it decided to move its gigantic mouth and scold them.

Needless to say, when he finally realized that something that great towered over them; he was completely shocked. It was the first time he had ever seen humanoid that great in size. His drunken, cold eyes suddenly sparked with burning surprise as he processed the information his eyes registered.

"Woah, man!! Are you real????" he asked, shortly after the men – who he paid absolutely zero attention to, got up and left following the giant's lecture.

"I can't believe someone from up above decided it was time for me to finally witness a giant, with my own eyes! HA-HA!" he happily chuckled, not minding the tone of his voice as he probably should.

It took him a few more seconds to realize the giant has turned to him before he started rambling on his own. Drunkenly, he shook his head and gestured for an apology – bringing his open palms together in a prayer before holding them in front of him.

"My bad, dude! Yeah, you're right. Fighting them under these conditions in an open town I have never been to, while they're wearing some fancy-ass clothes; it was probably not an especially wise decision, he-he" he proclaimed, giggling lightly after he concluded his sentence. "But you know, they were following me. I don't even know wh-" he spoke, burping suddenly in the middle of his words. "I don't even know why, I mean. They stared at me at the bar so naturally I stared back, then I passed by them, and they decided to walk up to me after that point. The bearded fellow asked me if I was looking for trouble. Then I provoked them and they had drawn out their weapons.  So when a guy aims his pistol at you – or at least, tries to, you just cut off his arm. Same goes with a knife. Every wielder of a weapon should kn-" *blurp* "that," *blurp* "their lives are at risk too, y'know. Weapons were created to kill, or at least, seriously injure. So I treat them as such. And I taught them a lesson. Plus, judging by their fancy-ass clothes n' shit, they'd survive this, any they might even get them stitched back to their bodies" he rounded up, nodding at him a number of times in quick succession, his head flying somewhat weakly in each and every nod.

"Oh, and thanks for the compliment, man! I'm glad I've improved, hehe" he replied, giggling lightly, smirking at him. Asher sure liked hearing people complimenting his swordsmanship skills, especially when he was drunk. But, come on – who wouldn't?!  

"Anyways," he burped, "What are you doing on this island? Are you here on vacation or something?" he asked. "Anyways, let's go inside a bar! I've seen a giant inn with giant doors, he-he" he giggled drunkenly, a wide grin remaining stuck to his lips. "But wait, I don't know if you'd have a place to sit there… Hmmm…  Let's go find a place to sit down, drink and talk, hehe" he suggested, moving back towards the inn, as he figured he'd find somewhere that fits his description passing by the many pubs occupying this main avenue. He neglected to check if Kouhei would follow him; so instead, he simply strode onwards, trusting that he will.

---

The bearded fellow and the tall amputee terrifyingly carried their partner and sprinted out of this alley, managing to avoid at least Asher's intoxicated observation. It was a bit harder to avoid Kouhei's line of sight, however, he had nothing against them leaving; the opposite, actually.

With two men supporting him from each side, the man whose eye was poked and face was bruised, rushed forward alongside his fellow organization members.

"It's going to be okay, fellows!" the bearded fellow cried in pain, squeezing his forearm as hard as he could in order to lessen the bleeding. The other one, the bigger amputee, had followed suit, nodding at him as he greeted his teeth. "The boss will take care of this", the gentleman who was being supported replied.

It took them no more than three minutes to arrive at their destination. And the reason that they managed to maintain such a fast-pace was quite simple, all things considered. You see, when one's body enters such a state of shock due to a loss of an important part of it, adrenaline kicks in, in order to make sure the latter survives. It's a primitive function almost every living creature hides; one that kicks in when necessary, and is nearly impossible to control.

They managed to sprint and activate a moderate amount of pressure on their wounds all the way to their headquarters. It was located at around 600 meters away from the alley in which they were assaulted. Two men were posted in the front. In this small island, there was no need for more; they were a part of the most intimidating organization of this Kingdom.

The guards in the front didn't even have to ask them; as the victims' injuries were hard to ignore.  

"Alfonso!" one of the guards yelled, referring to the shorter, middle-aged fellow who sported the beard. "What happened??" he barked again.

"Some fucking guy I've never seen before.." Alfonso weakly replied, panting, "Fucked us up, basically" he added, falling to his knees along with the second amputee. The second guard gritted his teeth and laid his arm on the second amputee, while the first guard caught Alfonso, and the warrior whose arm was poked remained standing.

From the edge of the long corridor, a young man emerged. He wore glasses and had deep, blue eyes. He was rather tall and built well. He sported a buttoned shirt, a black tie, black suit-pants and black shoes. On the pocket of his buttoned shirt he wore the same badge as his men. However, it wasn't colored bronze, it was colored silver. Not only colored, but made of pure silver.

He started walking towards them, surprised; as the guards helped the three men to rush to his side, too. They met halfway, and the first thing his blue eyes had observed were their injuries. A poked eyed and two amputated arms. He was shocked. He couldn’t believe someone crazy enough to assault his men lived on the island. There was only one guy who could do that; but he had no interest in doing so.

"What happened?" he asked, cutting his stream of thoughts short. "Th-the..There was th-this… Dude, sir…" the bearded fellow said, panting heavily as one of the guards bandaged his arm, while the other one provided first-aid to the second amputee. "We were assaulted… B-b-by… This new guy, he isn't native to… T-to this… Island" he continued, growing weaker and weaker by the second.  "H-h-he was at the Pink Snow… Inn… Black-hair, g-g-golden or hazel eyes… Rather tall… And lean" he continued, struggling to remain conscious.
"Say no more," he added, patting his back lightly. He got it. It wasn't a local. It made sense, now. All he had to do is teach them a lesson.

"But wait… Sir" he added, catching the blue-eyed man's attention again. "I think. H-h-he has... Something you're after..." the middle-aged person whispered, finally surrendering himself to sleep.

"Take them all to the hospital, Johnny, quickly. You could take Sasha with you. I have something to take care of, now" he said, nodding at his men one last time. "You fought brave, all of you. I'm proud of you" he added and turned back.

"But now… Now it's my turn to take care of things"

---

Word Count: 1,670  | Tag: @kouhei